


Lights Out

by ofvanity



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Teen Angst, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-18 02:30:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/874633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofvanity/pseuds/ofvanity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Do you think eighth grade will change us?"</p>
<p>Scott kisses the base of Stiles' skull, fluttering pressure there and down the first notches of his spine. “Not if we don’t let it.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lights Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [everhaunting](https://archiveofourown.org/users/everhaunting/gifts).



> Set pre series, the summer before Scott and Stiles enter 8th grade.

They've been friends for so long, Stiles is like a voice in Scott's head. Infinitesimal in it's pressure and somehow pressingly important. Each whisper of his voice or each creak of his footsteps' pressure on the hardwood resonates inside Scott on nights like these. The fifth night in the last six weeks Stiles is tip-toeing into his bed. Every time he is less precautious, less unassuming, less hesitant.

He comes to a halt three steps away from Scott's bed. "Where's your mom?"

Scott shrugs, "Hospital. Yours?"

Stiles scans the room and grunts noncommittally.

It's more than enough answer and Scott shoves over to make room for them both on his twin bed. Before Stiles can reach him, the bedside lamp flickers and gives out. Outside, the street lamps shut off as well. "Fuck," Scott mutters into total darkness.

Stiles doubles back and peaks out the windows. "Lights are out across the neighborhood," he announces.

Scott shuffles off the bed and into the drawer beside it, "Probably from the storm that’s coming soon."

"Do you have a flashlight?" Stiles asks just as Scott finds his Bat symbol flashlight and slathers light into the room.

Stiles' silhouette turns to face him, face obscured in the Bat symbol. "I can't believe you still have that."

"Why wouldn't I?'

Stiles shrugs. Scott rolls his eyes at him and turns the flashlight on its side so the light will hit the wall and reflect into the room.  It lights only a few feet in its radius while the rest of the room obscures into darkness. He lays back down and says, "Come on, let's go to sleep," but they both know it's a lie.

"It's nine thirty." Stiles protests aimlessly and climbs in beside him.

"I'm allowed to be tired."

They lay beside each other for a few minutes, Scott listening to the rise and fall of Stiles' chest. He slings and arm around Stiles' waist and presses his nose to the fine hairs at the back of Stiles' neck. Stiles squirms for a moment like he does when Scott tickles him and then goes still. "Do you think eighth grade will change us?"

Scott kisses the base of Stiles' skull, fluttering pressure there and down the first notches of his spine. Stiles arches into it and then Scott responds, “Not if we don’t let it.”

Stiles shuffles and turns over. His eyes are bright even in the shadows of scarce light. “Will we?"

Scott kisses him on the mouth. “No.”

Their kisses are warm and trembly, still. Scott hasn’t mustered the temerity to truly kiss Stiles yet. He can’t fathom the idea of attempting to engage his tongue in the equation and whenever Stiles' mouth opens with hot breath, Scott stops himself. He is tempted, but instead nibbles gently on Stiles’ lower lip and hopes that it resembles something sensual. 

He turns Stiles over and bears his weight over him a little, pinning him to the bed. Stiles squirms beneath him and Scott can feel Stiles’ growing erection pressed against Scott's thigh. It’s hot and he rubs against it experimentally. When Stiles moans in Scott’s ear, Scott does it again. But then Stiles’ anxiety is back, Scott can hear it in his voice. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” Scott says evasively and ceases the hip motion to kiss Stiles’ mouth again. 

Beneath Stiles’ shirt, his skin is warm and Stiles squirms under Scott’s hand, “It’s cold.”

“Sorry.”

“Wait,” Stiles says and sits up a bit, elbowing Scott in the process of taking off his shirt.

“Ouch,” Scott mutters, rubbing at his jaw.

Stiles’ eyes are dark without the regular bedside lamp so Scott can’t see them but he think Stiles feel brave tonight. Stiles is shirtless and leans forward to kiss Scott’s jaw. “Sorry,” he murmurs and then kisses his neck. His breath is hot against Scott’s pulse and in his ear, “You too.”

Scott thinks of how skinny his chest will look and is grateful for the power outage. He sits back on his haunches and pulls the shirt over his head, dumping it off to the side to deal with later. Stiles is watching him curiously and then touches his hips, above the hem of his pants. His hands are cool too and Scott arches into them, skinny fingers running across his stomach and touching his nipples. Scott shudders as Stiles rubs them softly and tweaks one with his left hand.

“Can I?” Stiles asks tentatively and when Scott nods, touches his mouth to the nub, licking slowly and then sucking when Scott moans again. He repeats the actions until Scott is panting with anticipation. They kiss silently for a moment, and when they break apart Stiles lays against the pillows and says, “Try me.”

Scott nods and does his best to mimic Stiles’ action, licking his nipples softly and even biting gently but Stiles seems unresponsive. “I guess not,” he decides.

Instead Scott goes to kissing him, spreading his legs farther apart to accommodate Stiles between them. This kiss is no less chaste than those before and Scott hopes Stiles won’t hold that against him. He kisses at the base of Stiles’ neck and then his Adam’s Apple, gnawing gently and feeling victorious when Stiles’ mouth shudders with a guttural moan.

Between his legs, the heat is growing again and he presses his stomach against Stiles’ to feel the way his body moves when Scott rubs their erections together. Stiles moans again, breaking the kiss to breath, but he doesn’t discourage Scott in any fashion. Instead, his hands appear at Scott’s nipples again, tweaking gently and Scott is barely registering that when Stiles rolls his hips up. The heat ripples inside Scott, curling his toes and making his head spin.

“Scott,” Stiles chants, “Scott,” and then grabs the back of his neck to bring him into a kiss. With the heat of the cocks pressed together and building with each grind, Scott forgets about his fears and slips his tongue into Stiles’ mouth, doing his best to keep their kiss coordinated but probably failing. They break apart and Stiles is panting, “Wait.”

Scott’s truly impressed with himself when he manages to stop. The room is spinning and he feels faint, “What’s the matter?”

Stiles maneuvers them and only knocks their knees into each other once, shifting until he’s on top. He kisses the center of Scott’s chest to placate him and straddles him, rolling his hips down on Scott's groin in ways he’s seen on HBO late at night. Scott makes a choked sound and pulls him down into another kiss. The friction between them is maddening, growing faster with fervor and multiplied by Scott's tongue brushing against Stiles'. Stiles is so caught up in the pressure of their hips that he doesn’t notice Scott’s hand until it’s unzipping his shorts.

“Scott, I’m going to--”

“Keep riding me,” Scott instructs and his hand is hot on Stiles’ dick, pumping it fast and faster as Stiles loses his rhythm. He’s panting in Scott’s ear and now he’s fucking Scott’s fist, toes curling with the pressure and how fucking good it feels and he knows he can’t hold for much longer. Scott’s other hand grabs Stiles’ ass and he urges Stiles’ rhythm, rough with anticipation and his dick is so hot through his shorts that Stiles can feel it against his leg.

“C’mon,” Scott groans again and sucks at Stiles' neck encouragingly. In a flash, Stiles is coming, mouth dry and the sensation shaking heat through his core, coming on Scott’s hand and between his fingers and on Scott’s shorts. Scott leaves his dick and both his hands grab Stiles’ ass, manipulating the grind until he’s gasping and his shorts are wet with his come. 

Stiles sighs heavily and disentangles himself from Scott, quietly tucking himself away. After a hesitant moment, he lays down beside him again, panting to collect his breath. Scott only scoots over, not meeting Stiles’ eye like he’s afraid to. Stiles can’t hold it against him.

The last time Stiles came over, the had kissed and touched each other enough to get hard but Scott finished hastily in his bathroom, first stuffed into his mouth to keep himself quiet. When he came back, Stiles was gone. Tonight was the farthest they’d ever gone together and the gravity of it hangs between them.

Before either of them can speak, lightning sparks up the sky outside in a flash so bright the inside of Scott’s eyelids turn pink. The clouds cackle and it begins to rain, steadily and heavily. Wind whistles inside the window and the trees outside Scott’s room shake with it. Stiles glances at it. “I guess the storm is here.”

Scott tries to smile reassuringly for him. There's pressure building in the back of his head, thudding like a heartbeat and a migraine and Stiles' voice.

"We'll get through it," Scott says, but within the month, Mrs. Stilinski is dead.

**Author's Note:**

> This is for my babe, everhaunting, on her fantastic amazing beautiful birthday. I know this is late but I hope you'll forgive it. Plus, I hope you forgive that I beta'd this myself, my complete disregard of characterization, the shameful lack of cannibalism, and the fact that there's like all this angst in there. I know you knew this was coming but hopefully I surprised you with the time. I'm going to sleep now but I love you! Let me know if I fucked anything up or if you hated it. <33 Happy birthday!


End file.
